


Street Cleaning Day

by Infinitely_Odd



Series: Meanwhile, In Night Vale [8]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Has Tentacles, Cecil Whump, Cecil has complicated feelings okay, Cecil has daddy issues omg same, Cecilos Fluff, Daddy Issues, Eldritch Abomination Cecil, Episode: e015 Street Cleaning Day, F/M, I checked out the cec whump tag and most of the fics are mine i think lol, Janice gets hurt, M/M, Mild Blood, POV Carlos, Protective Carlos, Sad Cecil, Sorry for being mean to you steve, Steve Carlsberg is Not a Jerk, Thoughts about murdering someone, also they only eat pasta for some reason, daddy issues: the fic, i need to stop, i promise ill stop one day lol, me projecting my trauma onto cecil its more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22773772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinitely_Odd/pseuds/Infinitely_Odd
Summary: Carlos and Cecil are invited to the Carlsberg-Palmers for Street Cleaning day. Cecil has to report, so Carlos goes alone.No one expects it to go downhill so quickly.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer, Steve Carlsberg/Abby Palmer
Series: Meanwhile, In Night Vale [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553950
Comments: 9
Kudos: 96





	Street Cleaning Day

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @oddpyromaniac  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bibliokleptic_aziraphale/  
> @bibliokleptic_aziraphale  
> Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/99760524-eldritch-abomination

Street Cleaning day. The entire town of Night Vale held their breaths as street cleaning day occurred outside. Families hid in their homes, and the Carlsberg-Palmers were no different.

Every year the family stayed at home, usually in the basement or upstairs, far away from the terrors of the outside. This year, they had a visitor. Carlos had been invited to stay with them, and not a fan of the whole death thing and possibly facing the terror alone, he accepted eagerly. 

Cecil had been invited too, but duty called, and the citizens of Night Vale needed to be kept up to date on the latest news during such dire times. It was with a heavy heart, ladened with anxiety, that Carlos went to Abby and Steve's without Cecil who had decided to barricade himself into the radio station. So, the day before Street Cleaning day Carlos found himself with an overnight bag on Abby and Steve Carlsberg-Palmer's porch.

Abby Gershwin Carlsberg-Palmer (because the Gershwin ran in the family, apparently) was nothing like her brother and yet reminded Carlos of him so much. She had jet black hair that trailed down her back like a river of the night sky, but silvery white poked through at the roots, and sometimes when she didn't move and stayed completely still, her hair began to twinkle like the night sky back home. Abby, being Abby, this didn't happen often, and given her temper, Carlos wasn't going to ask to examine it anytime soon.

She was tough, her eyes were a steely grey at all times, her brows were almost permanently furrowed. They only smoothed out when she slept, or when she looked at her husband and daughter. 

Once, he and Steve Carlsberg had some rare time alone. It was a celebration, one that Carlos couldn't remember, but was important to the town. He and Steve had found themselves sitting on the Carlsberg-Palmer's porch drinking cheap beer that he and Cecil had brought. The sun hung low in the sky, and night peeked over the horizon. It was always awkward with Steve, Cecil had been more civil recently, but Carlos still found himself silently begging Cecil not to start anything. 

"You know," Steve said, out of the blue. "You're good for him."

Carlos almost choked on his beer. "Who? Cecil?"

With a soft smile, Steve swigged his beer and nodded, "Yup. It might surprise you, but I actually like Cecil." 

"Not at all,"

"Cecil he...he, Abby, and I have a weird history," Steve said, a faraway look on his face. He chugged his beer and sighed, placing it down on the decking. "But I've always liked him, and Janice adores him. He was always so absorbed in his work. His words were always so sharped, always barbed, more so than now, but you've really changed him, Carlos. You've softened him a little, and I have to thank you for that."

Carlos shook his head. "I haven't done much,"

"You've made Cecil happy, and that's more than enough." Steve's smile was as warm as the sun and as genuine as anything could be.

Abby is what Carlos imagined Cecil was before they met. Her words were iron, she was an unstoppable force despite possessing none of the qualities that Carlos found scary in Cecil. She had no third eye, her teeth were dull and slightly crooked, no tattoos, and no sign of tentacles either. The only thing that might have hinted at unhuman qualities was her hair, which she dyed as often as she was able. 

She certainly didn't skirt around the truth. That's where she and Cecil were similar. They were truthful, to the point of rudeness, and they were both very opinionated. 

Abby and Cecil didn't seem to get on often either, but that was a story for another time. 

As Carlos was dragged into the house by Janice, doing his best not to knee her wheelchair, Abby was standing by the stove cooking something suspiciously normal. 

"Hey Carlos," She greeted without looking up. "I'm making pasta, want any? It's not the gluten-free version." 

His eyes widened. "It's not turning into anything?"

Abby raised her wooden spoon, two limp, yellow noodles hung off it. "Looks okay to me."

"Fascinating! I'll have some if there's enough."

"Sure there is," Abby replied. "Janice go grab some bowls for us won't you?" 

Janice, always the happiest person in the room, grinned and did as her mom said. Carlos placed his bags by the door and helped her set the table. That was the other thing about the Carlsberg-Palmers, their house was suspiciously normal too. There wasn't even any trace of a Faceless Old Woman. It was just, by all means, a house fit for a family of three. 

Cecil's apartment was small and filled to the brim with trinkets from throughout the years. Cecil's interning days, his rebellious phase, his phase where he vanished for a bit in "Europe", not to mention the cupboard filled with things his mother had given him when she died but he wasn't allowed to look at. Cecil's house was fascinating because there was always something new there, something to be discovered. Abby's house was fascinating because it was ordinary. 

The table was sturdy oak covered in a red and white polka dot tablecloth. Janice placed the china bowls on top of blue mats, while Carlos placed the cutlery next to them. Glasses filled with juice and water on top of coasters, with Abby setting the huge vat of spaghetti into the middle of the table.

"Where's Steve?" Carlos asked while Abby pottered around the kitchen.

"He went out to get supplies, though he's left it a bit last minute." The last part of the sentence was uttered with a hint of annoyance which Carlos let go of. 

Janice rolled over to her mum and tugged on her apron. "Can we eat now mom?"

"Not until your dad gets here. The pasta can wait. Why don't you show Carlos to his room?"

Her daughter pouted but did as she said, hauling Carlos' bag onto her lap despite his protests. His room was on the ground floor next to Janice's, it had a double bed (for when he and Cecil stayed over) as well as a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. The window faced the street, but the view was obscured by planks of wood that had been carefully nailed over the glass. "Mom did that yesterday," Janice supplied helpfully. 

"Have you ever seen the street cleaners?" The question slipped out before Carlos could think about whether asking was a good idea. Janice shook her head.

"I haven't. I think uncle Cecil has, but he hasn't said anything." 

That sounded like Cecil. There was a clang as the front door opened and shut. Without a second of hesitation, Janice spun around and darted for the door. "Dad! You're home!"

There was a deep laugh, "Hey sweetheart, what's your mom been making? Smells great."

"Finally we can eat now you're here. Uncle Carlos let's go!" 

Carlos walked out into the hall. Steve was standing there staring at the back of his daughter with a fond expression. "Hey Carlos, good to see you."

"Likewise," Carlos replied, awkwardly side-hugging Steve. Steve, bless him and his simple nature, grinned and hauled Carlos down to the kitchen along with the bag of supplies he'd gathered. Abby was spooning spaghetti into bowls, Carlos took a seat next to Janice. 

Steve kissed Abby on the cheek, and she half-smiled. "I'm surprised you managed to get anything. I thought they'd all be out."

"Ah, well, I managed to get there in time. I have a feeling most people went last week, how lucky's that right?" 

Abby flicked the slightly wet spoon at her husband and glared half-heartedly. "One day your luck is gonna run out, Steve Carlsberg."

Steve laughed, "You sound like your brother." He said, not unkindly.

Abby's face fell into something Carlos couldn't decipher. Her brows furrowed, but she didn't look angry. Maybe conflicted. Before anyone could say anything else, Janice piped up. "Can we eat _now,_ please mom?"

"You're so impatient!" She huffed, doing that half-smile again. "Go on then." 

The family ate dinner, chatting away happily. Janice spoke about her basketball team, and the project she was planning for the upcoming science fair. Carlos told her he'd be more than happy to help with the experiments and the rest. The look on Janice's face was priceless. Her smile lit up the room, and Carlos wondered how he got so lucky with his family. 

The late afternoon faded into night, and as time progressed the family grew quieter. Abby's bottom lip was red raw from biting it, and Steve's grins became more strained. Even Janice, as happy as she was, grew silent, opting to go and play in her room alone for a bit. 

The three adults sat in the living room, Abby curled into Steve's side, the TV playing static and Cecil's radio show on in the background. "It's never a fun time," Abby said, staring at the boarded-up window. "One of the worst things about this godforsaken town."

Steve sighed. "You gotta take the bad with the good," 

"Sometimes it feels like there's more bad than good." 

"Then why do you live here?" Carlos asked before he could think about it. Steve paled, while Abby's expression flitted from furious to resigned in a matter of seconds. His heart began to race, and colour flushed his cheeks. He hung his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, that- that was uncalled for."

Abby shook her head. "Don't worry about it. I don't know, really. Maybe it's because we're settled here. Janice has never been outside before. You know what it's like out there, Carlos. It's less like culture shock, more like culture violent electrocution. Or culture suddenly-hit-by-a-freight-train. Or maybe it's..." She trailed off. Her eyes unfocused and she pulled her knees up to her chest. 

It was remarkable how much like Cecil she looked sometimes. Cecil did that often. Sometimes, his sentences would trail off into silence, and Carlos would watch as he lived out another scene from another time. Occasionally, he would cry thick, black, viscous tears. Carlos, ever the caring boyfriend, would reach over and clench his hand until he landed safely back home. "Am I crying?" Cecil would say, rubbing hands over his eyes, they widened when they saw the sticky black tears. "I- I can't even remember what I was crying about. Why am I sad?" His voice would be higher than usual, verging on hysterical.

Carlos never knew what made him cry. 

As quick as she zoned out, Abby blinked twice and was back to her usual self. "We should all sleep soon," She said, to no one in particular. "It's getting late. We need to be prepared for tomorrow."

Her husband nodded in agreement. "I'll help Janice get ready for bed."

Abby told Carlos to do what he liked, as long as he cleaned up after himself, which she knew he would. With a nod, he settled on making some tea before bed. Cecil's voice had gone silent, replaced with what sounded like bees. Only a second later, Carlos' phone rang.

It was Cecil. "Hi, Carlos!" 

"Cecil, hey! How are you?" 

"I'm great, the show tonight was super interesting. Did you catch the part I did on science?" 

Carlos winced, he hadn't. "Yeah babe, it was really _interesting_. You put in a lot of good work."

Notwithstanding the obvious lie, Cecil's happiness was apparent even over the phone. "Oh, Carlos you are _too_ sweet. Anyway, how is everyone?"

"Everyone's good," He said, balancing his mobile between his face and his shoulder, doing his best to pour the water without burning himself. "Well, as good as you can be on the night before Street Cleaning day."

Cecil hummed. "Are you all safe?" He asked, voice stern.

"Don't worry babe, all the windows are boarded up, and Steve got supplies today. What about you? Are you safe in the station? Have you got plenty of food?"

"Aww, you're worried about me!" Before Carlos could reply with an exasperated _'of course!'_ , Cecil continued, "I'm perfectly fine. Intern Kelvin reminded me about food, I nipped home during the weather. It's pretty comfortable here. I turned our sofa into a fortifier for the office door and the cushions are remarkably soft."

Carlos sighed in relief. "I'm glad."

The couple spoke a bit longer, Carlos passed the phone briefly to Janice so she could say goodnight, then bid the other two good night and went to his room. 

"How are you doing Carlos?" Cecil asked, his voice soft and tentative.

"I'm scared, honestly. But a scientist is always brave, so I'll just try not to think too hard about it." 

"Drink to forget!" Cecil chirped, far too cheerily. Yet, it made Carlos smile.

"I'll be listening to your show tomorrow, that'll keep my head focused. Maybe I can get some experiments done."

"Noo! Don't do them without me!"

"Cec, babe, I'll do an extra experiment with you once tomorrow is over."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I promise." Carlos checked his watch. "You should get some rest, bunny, you've got a long day tomorrow."

"You're right. You're going to bed too, yeah?"

"Don't worry about me Cec, we're all gonna be fine."

There was a beat of silence. "Sure, I know."

Another beat passed. Neither spoke. Despite Carlos's reassurances for Cecil, they sounded hollow even to himself. The lovers bid each other goodnight, and as Carlos sank into his bed, unbearably empty and cold, he couldn't help the growing pit of anxiety in his chest. Irrational, he told himself over and over, but he couldn't quite believe it.

* * *

"Listeners, today is not the day to do anything. Do not go outside, do not open any doors or windows, do not think about the universe, or your place in it, do not even think. Sit in your homes, hug your loved ones and hold them close. You never know what hug is going to be your last.

"This is Street Cleaning day."

* * *

Carlos sat up in bed, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead. His chest heaved and his breaths were laboured. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Suddenly, it came to him. He was in Abby and Steve's house. It was street cleaning day.

Next, he wondered why he had woken up as he did. With an arm, he wiped the sweat off his brow and sighed. A nightmare, perhaps, one that he couldn't remember. A second later, a blood-curdling scream rang throughout the house, one that made his blood run cold and the sweat freeze on his clammy skin.

It was Janice. 

A second later, and Carlos was up, shoving his legs into jeans. The unmistakable roar of Abby Gershwin Palmer resounded next, followed by a high pitched squeal and several loud thumps. Carlos flung open the door and rushed into Janice's room. It was chaos. Steve was clutching at Janice who was still in her bed, his hands moved over her arms, her head, and her torso, finally down to her left leg. A large bite marred the pale skin, and blood oozed from it at an alarming rate. It was red and inflamed, and Steve was hastily trying to apply pressure as best he could. Even from where Carlos stood, he could see the cuts were deep and at risk of being infected. Both he and Janice were pale, with the girl crying hysterically and her father trying to calm her down, despite his eyes being glassy as well.

Abby was in the process of shoving something out the window, presumably back where it had come from. He couldn't see the body, but the floor and the baseball bat Abby wielded were covered in a sticky black liquid. Blood.

"Carlos," Steve choked out, finally seeing the scientist. "Help us."

At once, he set to work. Removing the cloth Steve had pressed into Janice's leg, he took a better look at the wound. It was getting worse by the second. Janice's cries had quietened, and she was ghostly pale. Shock, Carlos thought. Reapplying the cloth, he turned to Janice. "Janice, sweetie, take deep breaths for me now. You're fine, you going to be fine, okay?"

Shakily, the girl nodded. Steve stared at Carlos like he was some saviour, his eyes wide and frantic, revealing every ounce of fear and love for his daughter. Abby, who had been taping the windows back up, threw down her bat and knelt leant to her daughter. Unsurprisingly, she was calm, but her aura emanated a cool fury that could be unleashed any second. "How is she?"

"She's hurt, hurt real bad." Steve said, brushing his daughter's hair off her face. She was leaning back in her bed now, staring blankly at the ceiling. Abby took a look at the bite and swore softly.

"She'll be fine, we just need to clean it and bandage it. I'll grab the antiseptic and butterfly stitches." She turned to Carlos, "Carlos, you're a scientist, keep her awake."

He nodded. He wouldn't let her down. Steve sat next to her, perched on her bed, while Carlos knelt down where Steve had been only a minute ago. "You're gonna be fine Janice. You'll see, after this uncle Cecil and I are going to take you out one day. There's a really cool dust tornado that only appears on Saturdays, we'll take you to see it yeah? Maybe we can get your mom and dad along too. Take a picnic, make a day of it."

Weakly, Janice smiled. "I'd like that..."

"And your science fair's coming up, did you tell uncle Carlos?" Steve added, voice no higher than a whisper. Janice shook her head. "She's amazin', Carlos, smartest girl in her whole class. Even the girl scouts were impressed." 

"Wow," Carlos said, slowly peeling the bloody cloth off her leg again. The blood hadn't stemmed yet, but it was slowing, and that was a good sign.

Abby appeared once more. Her movements were slow and choppy, almost staggering. She clutched the doorway as she came in. "Steve," She said. Her voice was low, a hint of fear slipping through the cracks in her armour. "Did you remember to get the antiseptic and stitches when you went out yesterday?"

There was a moment of silence as Steve stared at his wife helplessly. Then his expression morphed from confusion to shock, to pure, unadulterated fear. He paled to the point of looking green and shakily stood up. Janice called his name, but he didn't hear her. Or he chose to ignore her. He stumbled out the bedroom, past his wife, who had grown pale and begun trembling. She steeled herself and followed him out.

Janice looked down at Carlos, "Is dad okay?" So they'd been too quiet for her to hear. Small mercies, Carlos supposed.

He nodded, not trusting his voice to hold up as they waited. When the cloth became too saturated to do any more good, Carlos took the hem of his lab coat (another item hastily flung on that morning) and pressed that to it. It would do until Abby or Steve came back. Outside, it was quiet again. The breeze filtered through the hasty patchwork over the windows. 

Suddenly, there was another shout from further inside the house. Carlos instructed Janice to press down the lab coat firmly, and went to find the source. Abby and Steve stood in the hallway, Steve facing the door, with Abby glaring daggers at him. He was dressed for battle. Complete with a helmet, a chest plate, and a bag filled with weapons. His pale grey eyes were blank and glassy.

"It's my fault, Abby, I forgot things. Stupid, stupid Steve Carlsberg. I have to fix this, you have to let me." 

Carlos's breath caught in his throat. He was going to venture outside. A task that many people had attempted, but basically none had ever returned from. "The store should be locked down. I'll break in, I'm sure they'll understand." He began to walk towards the door. This only seemed to make Abby even angrier. 

"Steve Carlsberg," Abby said, her voice dangerous and low. Steve paused, one hand on the door, the other clutching his baseball bat. "If you open that door, if you take one _goddamn_ step outside, you're not getting back in."

Carlos's heart stuttered and his breath hitched. Abby had a crazed look about her, her hair was slightly frizzy, her eyes burning bright like Cecil's did. Her shoulders were hunched over, but her gaze was aimed right at Steve Carlsberg.

"Sorry Abby," Steve said, quietly and full of remorse. Refusing to even look back at her, though his hands were clenched so secure his knuckles were white. "Janice needs me. Look after her okay, I'll be back soon, even if you won't let me in." He took a step forward, undoing the deadbolt."

"Carlos! Stop him!" Abby shouted this time her eyes were wide with desperation.

"Don't bring him into this." Steve still refused to look at them. Abby's shoulders fell. "I love you, Abby." 

Then, Steve Carlsberg walked out the door.

* * *

"Listeners...I- _Steve Carlsberg_ has just appeared on the street. What on earth is he doing? Why is he here? He has a family at home, he- oh. Oh god, listeners, I- I see, in the distance, a horde of street cleaners twitch and snarl. They've picked up a scent. Steve's scent. A mass of flailing limbs and screeching, the horde are on their way. Oh, Steve _Carlsberg_...Listeners. I'm sorry I- I have to help him. He's carrying something, a bag, I think. Looks like it's from the chemists. He won't survive the street cleaners. As they continue their descent, I have to help him. I _have_ to. I leave you, with the weather." 

* * *

Abby had turned off the radio just after the announcement that Cecil had found Steve.

Carlos' fingers itched to turn it back on, to let the weather sooth them all, but his attention was firmly on Janice's leg which had thankfully almost stopped bleeding. The poor girl was still weak, however, and her leg needed to be cleaned as soon as possible. Abby came back into the room, sitting next to her daughter and staring at the radio so intensely that Carlos thought it might spontaneously combust any second. Stranger things would have happened if it did.

But the radio remained intact and silent. Janice's laboured breaths were the only sound in the room, and Abby did her best to soothe her, petting her hair in the same way Cecil often did. 

Cecil. Carlos' train of thought pulled into his favourite station- his boyfriend. The man he loved, who'd possibly gone to fight a horde of street cleaners. Singlehandedly. 

No offence to Steve, but he wasn't what Carlos thought of as 'capable'. Honestly, it surprised him even more that Steve was a native. How he'd managed to survive this long was insane. Though, Carlos hadn't anticipated surviving this long either.

Abby's eyes were darting between Janice and the door, her hands stuck in that loop of petting dark brown hair. There was a hiccup, and Janice's chest fluttered and her breath hitched. Shit, that wasn't good. Abby noticed, and quickly pressed fingers to her pulse, then to her forehead. 

Janice was sweating hard, large stains beginning to form on her nightshirt. A fever. That definitely wasn't good. 

"Fuck," She whispered. "Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck."

Just as the last incantation of 'fuck' left her mouth, there was a knock on the door. Abby stands, almost knocking over Janice's bedside table. She's far too like Cecil for comfort. Bitter, no- not bitter. Hardened by the world. A hard-shelled candy with a soft, chewy, vulnerable centre.

Carlos left Janice, promising only to be a second. He quickly strode into the hall as Abby swung open the door, gun at the ready, poised and ready to shoot. 

It clatters to the floor.

Standing at the door, cradling an unconscious, but unharmed, Steve Carlsberg to his chest was a bloody and beaten Cecil.

* * *

So many claws, teeth, angry faces.

They were on us in a second. If I had the chance, I'd take some notes on the experience. It'd make good material for my show. Besides, I'm a reporter, a journalist. It's my job to take notes and describe situations to people who are listening at home and may never experience the things I do. But I think one of the street cleaners ate my emergency notebook.

I don't know why Steve came out here, but something must be wrong. Even he's not that idiotic. He's a native after all, even if he doesn't act like one.

Something must have been dire at home.

I don't like fighting. I'm a journalist, not a soldier. Or maybe I can be both. I don't enjoy fighting though. I saw enough during the Strex revolution, I've seen enough fighting in my life to put me off it completely. I don't deny that sometimes you need to fight, I just don't like to.

I'm pushing street cleaners away, I'm on a timer right now. Then I notice Steve, really notice him. He's pale, and fighting with more ferocity than usual. One thing that connects Steve and me- we both don't like fighting. But now, he's battling with all his strength. Street cleaners are indescribable- literally, I can't otherwise I'll have a migraine for weeks and a very nasty letter from Station Management on my desk. The most I can say is they are terrifying- but Steve is fighting like he's got something to _lose_. 

The bag in his other hand swings violently. I push a street cleaner away and happen to catch a glance at it. It's from the pharmacy. My blood turns to ice. Someone's hurt then. Carlos, Abby, Janice. A street cleaner pounces onto Steve, the dripping mouth centimetres from his neck

I think of Carlos, Steve is his friend. 

I think of Abby, Steve is her husband. 

I think of Janice. Steve is her father. Stepfather. A shitty one, sure, but he's still her father. He's still Abby's husband. I remember how things changed when...well. When everything changed. Mother, Abby, and I changed forever. I don't like Steve. Or maybe I do. I don't know. Maybe he isn't a bad guy. Maybe it's just me.

A fog falls down over everything. I hate the sensation. My arms tingle and vibrate, my forehead burns like a grease fire. On bad days, doing this makes me hate the world. Makes me hate everything. On bad days, when I do this, I want to shred the world to pieces.

On good days, I hate myself.

* * *

"Steve?!" Abby cried, dropping her gun (thankfully still on the safety setting) and grasping at her husband's face. She looked up at Cecil, who was wearing an unreadable expression. "What happened to him? What happened to _you?_ " 

Cecil didn't reply, he only walked further inside placing the man onto the Carlsberg-Palmer's couch. "It's street cleaning day, I'm sure you're aware." Was all Cecil gave as an explanation. Carlos knew instantly that his wounds weren't only skin deep. His voice had changed. Maybe it was the years of being a radio host, maybe it was the fact that Cecil was deep down a very emotional person, but his voice gave away more than he realised. It was flat, devoid of anything, he was trying not to feel.

Bites and cuts littered every inch of him. Blood soaked through his white shirt, turning the violet of his waistcoat a deep, red-brown colour. "Who was injured?" 

Abby winced. "Janice," Cecil flinched. "Street cleaners got her. She'll be fine, but we were out of antiseptic and stitches." 

"I'm glad she's okay."

"Are _you_ okay Cecil?" 

There was a pause. "Of course." 

Carlos's mouth stayed firmly shut. What was there to say? "You don't _look_ it." Abby snapped, taking the bag filled with the items they needed and giving it the once over.

"I'm fine Abby. Don't worry." He rolled up his sleeves, showing off writhing tattoos covered in blood and cuts. Then, Carlos winced, his mind flitting to questions about how they reacted to pain and blood, and if the tattoos themselves could be hurt.

"Cecil you need medical attention," Carlos said, brushing his hands over the wounds.

Cecil smiled tightly, "I told you I'm okay. Besides, I need to get back to the station, the weather will be over by now and I didn't prerecord anything. Station Management will not be happy with me..." 

"Fuck station management!" Abby shouted, almost flinging the bag onto the ground before thinking better of it. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair. "Cecil you are fucking hurt. Let us patch you up at least."

This time Cecil bristled, like a cat. "I'm fine, Abby. Make sure Janice is okay, and tell Steve Carlsberg not to do anything stupid like that again." He turned to the door and began to stride towards it, trying to make his obvious limp look less conspicuous. "I'll see you at home Carlos."

"Cecil wait-" Abby lunged forward, grabbing hold of Cecil's thin wrist. "Come round after the broadcast." 

"Why?"

Why? What do you- Cecil I'm asking you to come round. I would like your company." She said through gritted teeth as if it was causing her great pain to reveal her feelings. Which, what little Carlos knew of Abby, it actually might have been. 

Cecil didn't turn back around to face her, he just pulled his wrist from her grasp. "Sorry, Abby. I don't think I can. Maybe next time." And Cecil walked out the door.

Abby was silent for a minute before seemingly remembering why she needed the items in the first place. With a huff, and muttering violent curses under her breath, she stormed out, slamming Janice's door behind. Carlos was left standing in the middle of their living room with an unconscious Steve Carlsberg. 

Before long, Cecil's voice reappeared on the radio. It sounded as rough as he had looked. A faint groan came from Steve who sat up and rubbed his head. "What-?"

"Steve," Carlos exclaimed, "How are you feeling?"

"Not good, buddy, but I'm alive. Wait, I'm alive? Is Cecil-"

Carlos shook his head. "Cecil's fine. Scratched to hell, but he's fine."

Steve hung his head in his hands, "God. What even happened."

"I was hoping you could tell me that."

"It's all a blur really. The street cleaners came, then Cecil came. I think one pinned me down and knocked me unconscious, then there was this horrific roar. This _scream_. Then I think I saw tentacles. Next thing I know I'm here." His eyes grew wide. "Is Janice okay? Is Abby...?"

Carlos patted him on the back, "Abby's patching up Janice. She'll be fine." 

"Oh good." 

The two men sat in silence for the most part. Carlos prodded Steve a little, but ultimately decided to hold off the experiments for that moment, he seemed fine, just a bit shaken. It was a while before Janice's room door opened again and Abby stepped into the living room, her hands bloody, but her expression relieved. 

"Abby!" Steve exclaimed, standing quickly and almost falling back over, Carlos rising quickly in order to steady him. Abby stared at him, her eyes welling up and tears spilling over them. It was a sad sight, seeing Abby Carlsberg-Palmer cry, but here she was. 

She rushed towards Steve, embracing him in a hug. "You fucking _stupid_ man. You Goddamn idiot."

He chuckled, hugging her back. "You let me back inside." He said, voice almost incredulous, but mostly fond.

"Of course you dolt. You're my husband, and I love you." Abby pushed her face into his chest. "I was scared." She whispered. 

Steve held her close, stroking down her back and hushing her. Carlos awkwardly stood, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but the couple. PDA was something he was still growing accustomed to. Eventually, the radio announced the end of Street Cleaning day, and that was that.

It was over. All the leftover adrenaline left Carlos like a flood, pooling at his feet and leaving him breathless. He'd survived, they all had. 

"Carlos," Abby said, smiling softly, still in Steve's arms. "You should go to him. Cecil needs support more than he'll let on."

Carlos nodded. "I will. I promise." 

"You're good for him, Carlos."

It was rare to receive so much praise from her, and Carlos thanked her, pulling on his lab coat and dashing out the door. "Wait, my things-"

Abby waved him off. "I'll drop them off tomorrow, I don't think there's anything in there you desperately need." Her eyes hardened, and her demeanour became deadly serious. "But you and I need to have a chat, Carlos, about Cecil. Thinking about it, I should probably have a talk with him soon."

"Sure," Carlos said, not entirely certain what she meant, or wanted to talk about. But who was he to question her? Bidding a quick goodbye to Janice- who was recovering her colour quite well, and wouldn't have any lasting injuries from the event- Carlos raced out the door.

The sky was bright blue, and the egg yolk sun embraced the horizon. Carlos set off for their apartment, Cecil needed him.

* * *

It was clear when he got home how awful Cecil was feeling. 

Empty bottles littered the floor of the apartment, Cecil had been drinking. Carlos gulped, gently brushing them all to the side with his foot. That was never a good sign.

Cecil's alcohol dependence had been an uphill battle between _'your liver!'_ and _'That's just how we do things here!'_. But Carlos had come out on top, providing scientific evidence. No one was immune to a relapse, however. Cecil was no different from anyone else (aside from the obvious physical differences). Certainly, it hadn't been this bad since Carlos had been in the Desert Otherworld.

A choked sob came from their bedroom, and Carlos made a beeline for it. Sat, curled on their bed, was Cecil clutching a bottle in one hand and a picture of a thin woman with white hair in the other. His face was blotchy with tears and snot, and his hair was all tousled as if he had been ripping at it.

Carlos's heart ached badly. "Oh, darling." He cooed, gaining Cecil's attention. Instantly he burst into more tears, and Carlos quickly lunged forward, cradling the radio host. "Cece, what's going on?"

For a while all Cecil did was sob and gurgle, during which Carlos managed to pry the bottle from his fingers and set it far away from them. "I- I saved Steve Carlsberg." He managed to spit out eventually.

"You sure did honey, that was really brave of you." This only sent Cecil into another round of cries.

"I'm a bad person Carlos." 

"What makes you say that?"

Cecil sniffed loudly. "The only reason I saved him. It wasn't a good reason. I'm so _selfish_."

"Hey now, I know that's not true-"

"It is!" Cecil stopped him with a loud cry, turning around to face Carlos. His eyes were rimmed with red like he'd put on red eyeliner with a shaky hand. "I didn't want to save him. I thought, well, I don't like Steve so why don't I just...then...then I thought about all the good things he's done. He's Janice's father. Stepfather. Abby loves him. I didn't want to save him for a split second, but...he's a good guy...and I- God I am the worst." 

He looked around for his bottle, but upon finding it missing sighed and sank onto Carlos's shoulder. "I could only imagine what Janice would be like...growing up without a father as I did...how my mother ended up. I remembered how kind Steve can be, although he's a regular pain in the ass. I don't want Janice to grow up idolising the man on the radio."

Carlos had been silent through Cecil's confession. "It's not healthy to idolise someone you don't know. And of course, that begs the question can we really know ourselves? Do we really know _anyone_?"

Carlos hummed, petting Cecil's hair softly. "Sure. The state we perceive as 'the self' is never constant," He said, "But we can learn about others. We can learn to recognise patterns. Like, like a code in a computer. I may not know what you were like three years ago, but I can guess that you liked Cat Ballou, and hated country music. That you always had coffee first thing (not pre-hammered) then tea after. Did you also like backrubs when your shoulders seized up after a long day of work? Did you always like your pasta cooked for precisely seven and a half minutes? 

"I can't say for certain, but I think I can make a pretty educated guess on the subject. It's what we scientists do best." 

Cecil remained silent. Usually, any mention of science had him perking up, but not today. "You know what Abby said to Steve before he left? She said: 'Steve Carlsberg if you go out that door I won't let you back in.' Pretty extreme right? But you know why she said that?"

"Sounds like an Abby thing to say," Cecil muttered.

"I think she was scared. You know how when Khoshekh is threatened he just kills people? Actually, he does that no matter how he's feeling. Bad example. But it's scientifically proven that people lash out when they're scared of being hurt to try and minimise the pain. That's what Abby did. And I think you do the same, Cecil.

"You were the one who ran in between a horde of street cleaners and Steve. Maybe you saved him for selfish reasons, but I think you saw the impact he's had- good and bad- on your town, and you were scared, Cecil. Maybe him dying would have been _easier_. No more questioning you, you could teach Janice how you felt it was appropriate. You'd have Abby and Janice all to yourself. But you saved him. You recognised that it was wrong, and that makes you better than most people." 

This time Cecil turned and pressed his mouth to Carlos's neck, not kissing it, just resting his lips over the beating pulse point. "I didn't want Janice to grow up like I did."

Carlos continued to stroke Cecil's hair. Any questions about his father, or rather lack of, was to be left for another day. "And I think deep down...you love Steve." 

Cecil stiffened. "He's a...maybe he is a good father. But he's an imbecile." He said, though with a hint of fondness in his voice.

"Sure, honey."

"I mean, glowing arrows in the sky, come _on!_ " 

"I know, Cece," The scientist chuckled. "How about I make us some pasta. You feeling okay?"

"Oh, I'll have a killer headache for sure, but with my amazing scientist boyfriend next to me I'll survive." He crooned, snuggling further into Carlos's neck. The couple kissed lazily like they had all the time in the world. Cecil's wounds had stopped bleeding and scabbed over, and while Cecil pressed soft kisses to the flesh under his ear, he gently rubbed a thumb over one of the cuts Cecil's tattoos were circling around.

"Say, Cecil, how did you defeat the street cleaners?"

But Cecil didn't reply. His eyes rolled beneath heavy eyelids, he'd gone into what Carlos sweetly referred to as: 'Standby', where he wasn't really asleep, but it was as close as Cecil got without artificial help. Carlos lay him back on the bed and tucked their weighted quilt around his body. Questions for another day.

Cleanup was better than it looked. Cecil hadn't actually drank that much, a lot of bottles on the floor were full upon further inspection, just lying about the floor. He would still be nursing a sore head tomorrow, however. Carlos put the water on to boil and grabbed a couple of glasses, the more hydrated Cecil was, the better he'd feel. 

He set the table and put the glasses down too, turning back to the pan which was filled with gluten-free pasta. Only a moment later there was the padding of footsteps, followed by two long arms wrapping around his waist. Cecil pressed sleepy kisses to the base of Carlos's neck where his hair was tied up in order to keep it from getting singed off should any of his experiments go haywire.

Also, Cecil thought it made him look sexy.

After precisely seven and a half minutes, Carlos plated the pasta. He and Cecil ate in relative silence, sharing soft glances and blushes. Cecil was still a mystery, even after years of knowing him and dating him. But that was okay. There were things he wasn't going to know.

As long as Cecil loved him, and knew that Carlos loved him in return, that was all they needed.

**Author's Note:**

> so uhhhh i have no excuse for this other than im feeling sad.
> 
> sometimes i wish my dad was dead, my bio dad. If you read the notes on my last fic you'll know we dont have a relationship. sometimes i think it'd be easier if he was. i wouldnt have to worry about him not loving me. or maybe i could jsut forget that he existed. I think ive been missing the point with cecil. he's not a bad guy, but hes definitely very questionable. i think ive been making him too perfect, so i wanted to take this opportunity to make him a little more....bad. obviously, you should never wish murder upon your brother in law because he is a good father, but i relate to cecil's abandonment issues.
> 
> cecil doesnt actually want steve to be dead, who would? i wanted to try and make cecil a bit more complicated. less one dimensional. i dont know how well i did, and i think i might rewrite this down the line but for now im happy with how it turned out.


End file.
